


What Hides in Greenpath

by ConstantlyStories



Series: Embrace Dreaming no More [2]
Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Quirrel and the knight get their first hint at why the heck they're there, hornet is concerned now that two of her problems are in the same place at the same time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:07:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22646899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConstantlyStories/pseuds/ConstantlyStories
Summary: Compared to the Crossroads, Greenpath is full of life and promise. However, danger lurks beneath the beauty, and the winding paths lead to more questions than answers.Quirrel and the knight delve deeper into Hallownest, each chasing after an explanation for why they were called to the kingdom.The protector of Hallownest thinks the two spell trouble individually. She isn't sure what to make of the fact that they travel together.
Relationships: The Knight & Quirrel (Hollow Knight)
Series: Embrace Dreaming no More [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1625965
Comments: 19
Kudos: 190





	1. Chapter 1

While they didn’t exactly take pleasure in the act of killing, the knight felt deeply satisfied when their new spell tore through the armored bug’s defenses and the way to Greenpath was finally clear.

Everything was so green! Plants flourished all around, green covering the gray rock and then overtaking it. The air was warm and humid, smelling of life and water, such a contrast to the Crossroads’ cold and dusty atmosphere. Waterfalls hissed somewhere unseen, and light filtered in from somewhere high up.

The ruins in Greenpath were crawling with moss and vines, foliage overtaking the ancient structures and winding through the cracks. While the place was equally crumbling and abandoned, the knight felt like this was a marked improvement over the desolate relics they’d seen before. At least _something_ was alive here.

Below the path came the sound of bubbling liquid. Ahead, there were gaps in the path where the stone had given way and fallen away. The knight paused at the edge and looked down, curious as to what was there.

They almost mistook the bright green-blue liquid for water. It was clear enough for them to see straight to the bottom and count the little stones that had settled there. However, they could hear the quiet hiss as bubbles rose to the surface, and the mist that hung low over the surface burned when they leaned too close.

Acid?

“I can hardly believe those dusty old highways led to such a lush and lively place!” Quirrel exclaimed from behind them. “It seems the further we go, the more the foliage overtakes the stone around us. Quite beautiful, don’t you think?” He paused beside the knight and peered over their shoulder. “It seems even such a welcoming place as this has its dangers. I would do my best not to fall in, if I were you. That acid would burn through a bug like me, but I can only imagine the damage it would do to a shell as soft as yours.”

The knight looked up at him. Did Quirrel realize exactly how morbid some of the things he said sounded?

Apparently not, seeing as he was quite cheery as he stepped around the knight and jumped over the break in the path.

The knight was quick to catch up, walking at Quirrel’s side in favor of running ahead. They wanted to enjoy this place.

They also didn’t want to fall into the acid and find out what it did to them.

The terrain shifted from stone to squishy moss and the knight paused to test the different ground. It felt springy underfoot and damp with condensation. A good feeling, for sure.

That is, until a nearby bush came to life and promptly bit them.

Magic crackled in the air, exploding outwards as the knight jumped back in alarm. The spell burned through their attacker, leaves burned away by the blast, leaving behind a blackened shell.

What???

“Are you alright?” Quirrel asked from a few paces away. He too had jumped when the knight let loose their spell.

The knight took a deep breath and pointed at the shell of their attacker.

The wanderer considered the burnt shell and then looked around. “It seems even the docile mosscreeps have become aggressive.”

The knight stared at him. A bug disguised as a bush just attacked them!

“These leaves are pretty, but they make for much better camouflage than the stark rock of the Crossroads. We should probably keep an eye out for other hidden dangers.”

Right!

As it turned out, Greenpath was beautiful, but the creatures were just as terrible! Maybe even worse, since they could hide. At least the crawling things in the Crossroads had the decency to skitter out in the open.

The knight glanced around in case there was another evil bush bug. Mosscreep, Quirrel called it. Were there any other clumps of green nearby big enough to hide a mosscreep?

“Hallownest is perfect for vigilant explorers like us,” Quirrel continued, carrying on ahead. “So tense and thrilling. In this place, you're either alert or you're dead.”

With that in mind, the knight let themself fall into step beside the taller bug. They let him take the lead so they could keep an eye on the shrubbery. They wouldn’t be fooled twice.

There were other new bugs to encounter, more and more turning up the further the two wanderers walked. In addition to the mosscreeps, there were larger moss-covered bugs that burrowed underground to ambush. There were Quirrel-sized bugs that were covered in green. Some charged when the knight got close. Some shook and then exploded into orange.

The first explosion wasn’t hard to dodge, but the knight was taken by surprise when the shell exploded again after the living bug fell to their nail.

“Some bugs do that,” Quirrel said unhelpfully as the knight tried to pat the orange powder out of their cloak. It burned terribly where it touched them.

Lesson learned: some bugs exploded into clouds of orange both during life and after death.

“Perhaps there’s a bench nearby,” Quirrel added, sounding a bit more sympathetic. “Then you can properly clean your cloak.”

The knight really hoped so.

They turned to the path ahead, ready to keep going, when a flash of red caught their eye.

Up ahead, there was another bug standing on a tall ledge. She wore a red cloak and held what looked to be a very thin and sharp nail. Her mask was pale white with two slender horns and seemed to encompass her entire head the way the knight’s did. Her eyes were dark and unreadable as she stared down at the two travelers.

“Oh!” Quirrel said, following their gaze.

Before the knight could even think to respond in some way, she turned and ran off deeper into Greenpath.

They needed to follow!

The knight didn’t wait for Quirrel’s input and ran toward the ledge she’d been standing on. It was higher than they’d realized, and even when jumping as high as they could, the edge remained just out of reach from their fingertips.

“I’ve seen her before,” Quirrel said. “She’s something of a protector of the kingdom, standing guard against those who seek to desecrate the remains.”

The knight looked at him. They hadn’t thought Hallownest had a protector, especially after all this time. Hadn’t the kingdom been empty and in ruins for over a hundred years? What was she protecting?

“I don’t know anything else about her, aside from the fact that she’s quick to draw her needle and just as quick when fighting with it. We might be wise to tread carefully if she’s patrolling this area.”

Even so, the knight needed to talk to her. They couldn’t explain why, but they absolutely _had_ to hear what she had to say.

“Despite our original meeting going less than favorably, I would like to try talking to her,” Quirrel added thoughtfully. He leaped easily up to the ledge she’d been standing on. “I wonder where she went?”

The knight tried again to jump up. Again, their hands fell just short of the edge.

“Are you wanting to follow?” Quirrel asked, looking down at them.

Did he not see the knight try? They did so again, this time taking a running leap. The added momentum only served in nearly sending them careening into the acid when they missed the ledge and then kept falling forward.

“I see.” At least Quirrel had the decency to look a bit sheepish. He knelt and held out his hand. “Try again, friend.”

The knight did so, this time much more successfully when Quirrel grabbed their hand and swung them up onto the ledge.

Once on solid ground, the knight ran forward, racing down the path they assumed the bug in the red cloak had followed.

The road was no longer even, the stone crumbling more and more, leaving large gaps that dropped into the acid. Vines crept across the path, red thorns snagging on the knight’s cloak when they ran too close. Waterfalls rushed in the distance, mist rising into the air in glistening clouds.

_Snap!_

The knight jumped in alarm, stumbling forward and away from whatever had slammed shut behind them. What just happened??

When they looked back, a massive plant was slowly opening its jaw-like leaves. The green went back to lying flat, nearly invisible amid the rest of the foliage.

Equal parts confused and horrified, the knight carefully stepped closer. When nothing happened, they drew their nail and prodded at the limp leaves.

_Snap!_

The leaves slammed shut like a giant mouth. The knight barely had time to withdraw their nail before they lost it to the plant’s great maw.

So whatever was making the bugs attack them was also affecting the plantlife. The kniht would just add that to the unending list of things trying to kill them. Even the plants were out to get them.

It occurred to the knight that they left Quirrel behind even after he’d asked to keep traveling with them.

Oops.

Well, he was tall enough. If he really wanted to catch up, it would only take him a moment.

The knight returned to their chase and more of Greenpath flashed by in a vivid blur. They only slowed long enough to avoid falling into acid or thorns or to slice through the bugs that refused to leave them alone when they ran past.

Who was that other bug? She looked like…

An image flashed in their mind, but the knight couldn’t place it. A million questions flew through their head and something told them that whoever that bug was, she had answers.

When the knight finally slowed to a stop, they were completely alone.

The brightly lit cavern they stood in was smaller than others, the green pressing in on all sides. They could hear things moving through the shadows but weren’t sure how to place the noise. Was Quirrel still following them? Had they caught up to the bug in the red cloak? Or were they surrounded by enemies?

Their surroundings were very beautiful. It was hard to tell where the light came from, but it lit up the plants that arced overhead and clung to the cavern walls. There were fewer ruins here, the terrain interrupted by natural rises and valleys.

Flowers dotted the grass, tiny splashes of color against the green, and more mosscreeps wandered around, chirping as they went. As long as the knight left them alone, the fuzzy green bugs ignored them just as the spiky bugs in the Crossroads had.

Maybe they should go back.

The knight turned, looking back the way they came.

Except… which way had they come by? Did they jump down from that rise? Or climb up from that darker passageway? Wander in from the path to the right?

Where was Quirrel? Was he still catching up, or did he decide to go off on his own after all?

The knight would feel guilty, but again, Quirrel wouldn’t even need to run very hard to keep up with them.

Seeing as nothing was immediately attacking them, the knight took a moment to consult their map.

Then they realized that they hadn’t updated it since sitting on the bench in Dirtmouth and it looked like the parchment only had room to finish mapping the Crossroads anyway. They’d need to find Cornifer again or return to his shop if they wanted to avoid getting hopelessly lost in Greenpath.

As pretty as the place was, they didn’t intend to wander there for the rest of their life.

Something moved close by, and the knight hastily stuffed the map back into their cloak so they could draw their nail.

That same flash of red disappeared through a darker tunnel surrounded by hanging plants and mossy rocks.

The floor evened out as the knight gave chase. The ceiling was lower there, blocking the light and draping the way forward in shadow. The ground was cold and damp beneath their feet. At the end of the passageway, the light returned, bright green indicating another open area.

Eager to get back to the warmth and grass and moss, the knight didn’t realize the path ended in a sheer drop.

They didn’t fall far, landing lightly on smooth stone. Green surrounded the gray and large stones rose like crumbling pillars. What looked to be words were carved around each. The knight couldn’t read what they said.

The masked bug in the red cloak stood at the other side of the space. She didn’t look up when the knight took a step closer, but her needle rose in a swift arc, the sharp point stopping them from taking another.

At her feet lay the body of another bug, one that looked eerily similar to the knight themself. Its mask was cracked, and a nail protruded from the center of its chest.

Did _she_ kill it?

“Come no closer, ghost,” the cloaked bug said, reclaiming the knight’s attention. “I’ve seen you, creeping through the undergrowth, stalking me.”

Well, they wouldn’t have if she’d just stopped running.

“This old kingdom… a terrible thing awakens. I can smell it in the air…”

Did she mean whatever the knight had heard cry out earlier? Did she know what it was?

The knight realized they had no way of asking.

“I know what you are.” The cloaked bug finally looked up. Her mask was as complete as the knight’s, eyes cold and dark. Her needle still pointed toward them. “I know what you’d try to do. I can’t allow it…”

What they are? What they would do? What was she talking about???

Before them, the cloaked bug (the protector of Hallownest, Quirrel had called her) leaned back into a fighting stance.

A name flickered in the knight’s mind: Hornet?

The knight had just enough time to draw their nail before she jumped up, needle held high and poised to end their adventure there and then.

“Shaw!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I edited this instead of doing homework...

Quirrel tried to keep up with his little friend, but he eventually lost them when the terrain started breaking and the plants overshadowed the ground. The smaller bug was not particularly fast on their tiny legs, but they were small and hard to see once the leaves grew taller than their horns.

Oh well. Between their new spell and general enthusiasm for swinging their nail around, Quirrel wasn’t particularly worried about them running through the heart of Greenpath.

But what would happen if they managed to catch up to Hallownest’s protector?

_‘This place is a corpse. It will grant only death. As will I, to those who’d seek to desecrate it.’_

The path Quirrel found himself wandering broke even more the further he went. Acid ran all throughout the area, bubbling and hissing in a way that he almost found comforting. It made him think of… _something_. Whatever it was, it was pleasant. Nostalgic.

Too bad he couldn’t remember what it was.

Then the ground sloped upwards, thorny vines started taking over, choking the rest of the green in spiny tendrils. Some areas were so overrun that they looked like a sea of brambles, all twisting around and through each other in a great knot.

Past the thorns, the caverns grew darker.

Everywhere he walked, Quirrel couldn’t help but be charmed by the environment. Everything felt so warm, so alive. Despite being in a similarly aggressive and unaware state as the bugs in the Crossroads, the bugs of Greenpath seemed different. Though equally shrouded in the strange orange, these bugs weren’t husks. Though equally aggressive, many attacking at first sight, they weren’t dead. They were alive.

And Quirrel knew all of them by name. Mosscreeps, mosskin, squits, obbles. Had he read those names somewhere? Heard about them from the few travelers he’d met in the wastelands? Perhaps, but he somehow doubted it.

Where did that little masked bug go? Given how large Greenpath appeared to be, Quirrel could be looking for ages and never find them. It might be more productive to just explore on his own and see if their paths crossed again.

A bit disappointing, but not a terrible idea. Something told him that the two would see each other again even if he were to give up his current search.

Quirrel’s wandering eventually led him to something of a clearing at the top of a darker cavern. There were a few different ways to go from there, and he paused to consider. If he continued upwards, he’d most likely wind up back on the surface somewhere.

Distantly, he could hear someone speaking.

_“Come no closer, ghost.”_

The bug in the red cloak? The sound came from beyond a shadowy passageway. Leaves and vines hung low, and the rock stood out against the moss.

Quirrel followed the sound, trying to listen as he ducked beneath the low ceiling.

_“This old kingdom… a terrible thing awakens. I can smell it in the air…”_

Quirrel paused at that. Her words implied the change was recent. The poisonous air, the walking husks, the mindless aggression that seized the bugs that still lived in the ruins; was it not like that before?

No, of course not. It couldn’t have been.

_“I know what you’d try to do. I can’t allow it…”_

Who was she talking to? His small masked companion?

Then a familiar battle cry split the air, and the sound of metal clashing against metal rang through the caverns.

Light glowed gentle at the end of the path and Quirrel ran toward it.

The ledge overlooked a short drop straight down into a smaller space that could almost be described as an arena.

Below, weapons flashed, light gleaming off the metal. The protector of Hallownest leaped up, needle in hand, before diving down toward Quirrel’s masked little friend.

The smaller bug jumped aside just as their opponent landed where they’d been standing hardly a moment before. They swung their nail wildly, though not in an aggressive way. They looked quite panicked, and as if they were trying to get her attention.

Or, more likely, get her to stop attacking.

She was as quick as Quirrel remembered, cloak a red blur as she darted in, needle poised to skewer the smaller bug.

She’d called them ‘ghost’. Was there a reason? The little masked wanderer never gave Quirrel a name to call them. Perhaps they wouldn’t mind if he referred to them similarly, if just in his own thoughts.

Currently, Ghost had apparently given up diplomacy. They jumped over the protector’s charge and struck downwards. The blunted edge of their nail collided with the taller bug’s mask, and they used the force to bounce over her head.

Their opponent stumbled a half step before whirling around and throwing her needle again, this time striking close enough to stir the fabric of Ghost’s cloak.

Despite his concern for Ghost’s safety (they didn’t seem hurt, but the protector’s needle came closer to striking them each time she threw it) Quirrel hesitated to intercede. Their opponent was fast and light on her feet. Quirrel’s sudden appearance could cause more harm than good if he distracted Ghost at the wrong moment. He himself could also get needlessly injured if he landed in the wrong place at the wrong time.

But also…

The cloaked bug spoke clearly and showed no trace of the orange that seemed to infect the rest of the kingdom; whatever her reason for attacking Ghost, it didn’t stem from the same mindless aggression.

Her purpose in challenging Quirrel had been to keep him away ( _‘Hallownest has already suffered enough like you’)._ Her intent seemed here.

What _was_ her intent?

_‘I know what you are. I know what you’d try to do…’_

A reminder that Quirrel knew very little about his new friend. He’d been so focused on finding his own reason for seeking Hallownest, he hadn’t given much thought to theirs.

Below, Ghost mistimed a jump. The protector’s needle hissed through the air, the point cutting into their shoulder as it passed. Black floated from the wound, and the little bug jerked as if electrocuted.

He’d waited too long.

With a pang of guilt at the result of his hesitation, Quirrel jumped down into the makeshift arena and drew his nail. His mask saved him from the protector of Hallownest before. Perhaps it would do so again.

Ghost looked to him in surprise, their hesitation lasting just enough for Hallownest’s protector to retrieve her needle and then throw it again.

White magic burst forth, making it impossible to see where the blade had struck, screaming souls covering the sound of the impact. The spell scorched across the battlefield, the tangled wisps striking the bug in red.

Though she flinched away from it, jerking her needle back into her hand in a sharp movement, she didn’t seem as effected as the others Ghost had used the spell on. The hit didn’t slow her in the slightest as she leaped up and then dove to where Ghost stood in the center of the blast.

More black spilled from their shell, but Quirrel couldn’t tell how bad the damage was, his own eyes trained on the protector’s needle as he darted forward.

In a clash of metal, Quirrel’s blade blocked her second strike before the needle’s keen point could find Ghost’s shaking form again.

“You!” The cloaked bug hissed. Though sounding surprised, she didn’t let up with her assault, needle flashing in the light and moving much faster than before.

“Hello again!” Quirrel chirped as he blocked the flurry of strikes, wincing at the force behind her blade. He managed to not lose ground to her, but neither did he push her back.

Was Ghost still behind him? Were they alright? He couldn’t see, didn’t dare take his eye off the bug before him.

“I understand this doesn’t speak well of me being a simple explorer,” Quirrel continued, parrying another strike. “But in all fairness, you attacked my friend first.”

This did not seem to placate her. Actually, the protector of Hallownest looked quite angry.

The bug in red jumped up with a shout. What looked like threads of silk lashed through the air, moving so fast that Quirrel only had a moment to notice their silver gleam.

His nail swung out in a wide arc, severing the strands before they could slice into him.

What an interesting attack! Quirrel knew some bugs could produce silk, (he’d seen her use it before at the cliffs) but the idea of striking so fast with it that it could do harm seemed quite ingenious.

There was a brief pause between as the shredded silk fluttered through the air and the protector’s feet touched the ground.

Quirrel wasted no time in closing the distance, finally given the chance to go on the offense. Not that he really wanted to hurt her, but he still wasn’t sure where Ghost was and didn’t dare take the time to look back.

Her needle blocked his strike hardly an inch from her pale mask. He’d gotten too close, Quirrel could tell even as he struck again. She moved far too fast, the needle sweeping outward before he could even duck behind his mask.

Magic crackled through the air again, burning tendrils of soul passing so close that Quirrel could feel the energy singing his shell.

Ghost’s spell struck Hallownest’s protector full force.

She hissed a curse, stumbling back a few steps. She was breathing hard, gaze studying Quirrel and his little friend carefully.

Quirrel raised his nail but didn’t renew the attack. Again, he really didn’t want to hurt her. However, Ghost had reentered his field of vision. Black continued to leak from the wound on their shoulder and more from a deeper wound concealed beneath their cloak. One small hand was pressed to their middle, the other shakily gripping their nail.

He didn’t trust her not to finish the job if he let his guard down.

Silk hissed through the air, and Quirrel made to cut through it again, but the protector of Hallownest wasn’t interested in continuing the fight. She was little more than a blur of red as she leaped up, following the cord of silk and using it to propel herself upward and out of sight.

Just like the first time.

She too was an intriguing character, and Quirrel found himself wondering how she fit into everything he already knew about Hallownest. While all kinds of facts and information continued to float to the forefront of his mind at random, Quirrel couldn’t imagine he knew anything at all about the bug in the red cloak.

His thoughts were interrupted by the quiet sound of Ghost falling to their knees.

Black hung around them almost like a cloud, round globs of the stuff leaking from their wounds and rising into the air. Ghost was breathing hard, mask tilted up to where the cloaked bug had vanished.

Quirrel felt his stomach twist.

“I must apologize, friend,” he said, crossing the short distance between the two. “I should not have hesitated.” He knelt beside the small bug, hands hovering uncertainly. He knew basic first aid, but he’d never seen wounds that behaved the way these were. The black (void, his mind supplied) leaked without end, and though their wounds looked severe, specifically the one half hidden beneath their hand and cloak, the little creature didn’t seem to be more than winded.

Ghost looked at him for a long moment. Then their gaze went back to where the bug in the red cloak had fled. They pointed.

“I don’t know anything more about her than what I’ve told you,” Quirrel told them, still eyeing the wounds carved into the little bug’s shell. “You’re hurt. Your wounds need tending, but I will admit, I’m not sure how to treat a being of your, well, composition.”

Ghost seemed to consider this. They were still bleeding, but their breathing had settled a bit. Their little legs shook when they stood, but they could stand.

“Can you heal yourself with soul?” Quirrel pressed. He didn’t typically like to pry, but any injury severe enough to impede one’s movement could very well lead to an untimely death in a place like Hallownest.

The little bug held up their hands in a helpless gesture. They’d apparently spent their reserves on spells.

Quirrel glanced around. The clearing looked to be deserted, but the sound of battle would no doubt draw the attention of anything wandering nearby. Being injured in a place so out in the open wasn’t a good idea.

Ghost seemed to realize this too. They slowly raised their nail, wincing as they returned the weapon to their back. Then they turned and went very still, gaze fixated on something a few yards away.

Quirrel followed their gaze and felt something cold settle like a chunk of ice in his chest.

The corpse of another small being lay in the grass. It bore a striking resemblance to Ghost, wearing a similar mask and cloak. A nail all the way through its chest, and a deep fracture ran through the mask.

Thoughts were suddenly buzzing through Quirrel’s head far too fast to process. It was… information. Information he wasn’t supposed to have. But about what? The creature itself didn’t look familiar (Ghost hadn’t when he’d first seen them either) but there was _something_. _Something_ lingering at the edge of his mind like a cold hand on his shoulder.

He pressed a hand to his head in an attempt to get his mind to settle.

Ghost approached the corpse slowly (they barely limped despite their wounds) and then knelt slowly beside the fallen being. Their small hand reached out, gripping the cloak off the body and holding it up.

“Ghost?” Quirrel found himself saying when the little bug didn’t move for a long moment.

The y looked at him curiously.

“I don’t have anything else to call you, and I heard her call you ‘Ghost’,” Quirrel explained, joining them beside the dead bug. “I won’t if it bothers you.”

A careless shrug, a wince, and Ghost haphazardly tossed the cloak in their hands around their shoulders.

“We should find someplace to rest a while,” Quirrel said instead of asking any of the dozens of questions still bouncing uselessly around his head. “You’re still hurt, and I believe the sound of fighting might attract unwanted attention.” He was also fairly certain that the bug in the red cloak was still watching somewhere unseen. She might’ve fled for the moment, but Quirrel had little doubt that they’d meet her again.

Ghost gave a quick nod and pointed to a path across from the tunnel Quirrel had come in by. It was as good a direction to go as any.

“Very good.” A start, anyways. “Let us be off before anything else happens.”

He made to lead the way, walking slower so Ghost didn’t have to run to keep up.

The two barely managed a few steps anyway before Ghost dropped back to their knees, one hand braced against the ground and the other gripping the hem of their cloak.

“Are you alright?” Quirrel asked, returning to their side.

No response. They didn’t even seem to hear him, head shaking slightly.

“Ghost?” Quirrel knelt beside them, unsure of what was happening. Had they underestimated the severity of their wounds? Did some other injury suddenly make itself known?

They looked up with the suddenness of one being ambushed.

Quirrel had his nail out in an instant, ready to defend against whatever aerial threat they might’ve seen, but there was nothing. The clearing was just as empty as it had been a moment before.

Beside him, Ghost continued to stare at something unseen.

What was it? A threat? A friend? Some other marvel equally invisible to the eyes of a simple bug?

Then, whatever spell they’d been under was broken, and they looked wildly to Quirrel.

“I don’t understand,” he told them helplessly. As it turned out, wishing it weren’t the case did nothing.

They pointed aggressively at the space above them and then flinched, gripping at their injured shoulder.

“I didn’t see anything.” The realization was distressing enough, but then Quirrel realized he wasn’t sure whether it was more concerning that Ghost was seeing things that he couldn’t, or that he couldn’t see whatever they had.

Ghost looked very put out by this. Their hand dropped in defeat before raising again in a helpless gesture. Whatever they’d seen must not be easily explained.

“Did it seem dangerous?”

A pause, and then they shook their head.

Quirrel let out a breath. His curiosity burned, finally shutting up the part of his mind that was still reeling from whatever partial revelation he’d had a moment ago.

The two could play twenty-questions later. Ghost was still bleeding, Quirrel’s head still rang with far too many thoughts, and the two were still standing out in the open.

“If it’s not an immediate threat, then it can wait,” he decided. “As much as it pains me to let go of such an intriguing mystery, I believe we should focus on finding a safer place to rest and heal.”

Ghost nodded again.

The path led downward, a few short drops leading to a mossy path broken by pools of acid, many of which were wider than the ones Quirrel had seen before.

Ghost handled the descent just fine, moving with surprising ease given how much void still followed them like an inky cloud. However, given the limits of their jumping capabilities (Quirrel still kind of felt bad about them missing the ledge earlier, though he had to admit it was also a bit funny to watch them try) he doubted they’d be able to clear the larger acid pools.

“I could carry you,” Quirrel offered when the two came to a stop before the first of such obstacles. He doubted they’d take him up on that offer; they hadn’t seemed thrilled at needing his help earlier.

Ghost stared hard at the acid. Then they slowly shook their head.

“Perhaps we should go back, then. I’m sure there’s a more sheltered spot back –”

The little bug jumped forward, high enough that their horns nearly brushed the rock that arced over the broken trail. At the apex of their leap, their new cloak flapped almost like a pair of wings, pushing them forward.

Ghost landed lightly on the other side and looked back to Quirrel. Their mask was unchanged, but he couldn’t help but think they looked smug.

“A useful discovery, that,” Quirrel said, joining them on the other side.

Ghost nodded eagerly and then looked ahead to the rest of the acid that cut through the ground. They didn’t hesitate, trotting to the edge of the next pool and then jump-dashing over it.

They moved well, given all that had happened. Did their injuries not pain them at all anymore? The shock of being struck had nearly staggered them halfway across the clearing.

As Quirrel followed his small friend, he couldn’t help but let his mind wander. He’d come to the kingdom in search of answers, but it felt like the more he explored, the more questions he had. Would he ever know the truth?

Actually, Quirrel wasn’t sure if he wanted to. Not entirely, anyway. He found the idea of there being too many mysteries for any one bug to solve had his heart beating just a bit faster. Despite the resulting headaches, he couldn’t help but marvel at anything that had his mind racing that fast, and he had the feeling that if he stopped and truly tried to wrestle his unruly thoughts, Quirrel’s mind might actually explode from the force.

Had he ever been to a place that inspired such wonder? Such confusion and intrigue and excitement all rolled into one?

Certainly not.

Hallownest truly was a marvelous place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A thought: Who would win in an actual fight between Hornet and Quirrel?
> 
> Quirrel had the advantage of not being targeted by the Uumuu when he helps Ghost fight it, but I still think it still gives us an idea of his skill. He's fast, probably stupidly good at dodging (he doesn't here because he's protecting Ghost) and it's theorized that his nail strike can do the equivalent of two masks of damage since you need an uoma explosion when fighting alone. His fighting style seems relatively cautious, waiting for a good opening before striking. (and talking relatively normally throughout the entire thing)
> 
> Based on the second fight against Hornet, we know she's also irritatingly fast (I was doing so well in the Pantheon of the Sage until I got to her...) and has a relatively diverse move set (at least when compared to Quirrel). She jumps a lot, though in my opinion, it's better for attacking than dodging (the whole 'Ghost took more damage by running into her than anything else' bit is based on my own experience). Also, if you include the bits of combat we see in the Silksong trailer and demo, she also has an arsenal of other weapons to use aside from her needle, and her fighting style is similar to mine: don't worry about dodging or health, just strike hard and fast and kill the other thing before it kills you.
> 
> Idk how much can be taken from their fight in the prologue comic since it's so brief. Quirrel was fast enough to block Hornet's initial strike, but I can't tell if he ducked behind Monomon's mask on purpose to block her second attack, or if she would've hit him but the mask happened to get in the way. Based on his pose in the panel, I think it's the first, but idk.
> 
> My own personal opinion: Their skill/experience level is about the same, Quirrel's stronger and faster, but Hornet is way more agile and has more diverse methods of attack. If the two were to fight for real, Hornet would win, but it would be pretty close.


	3. Chapter 3

Hornet watched the two until they finally wandered out of sight.

She leaned back against the ledge she’d perched herself upon. It was high above the clearing they’d fought in, obscured by distance and plant life.

What were they doing?

_“I’m only an explorer… This nail I carry only to protect my shell.”_

So much for that, though Hornet had known the simple bug to be a liar the moment she saw him.

Still… that mask.

At the time, all of Hallownest had been slowly waking. The infection was returning, husks rising from the dead and wandering the Crossroads and City. More of the Mantis tribe were being banished to the Queen’s Garden. The Black Egg Temple shook with a barely contained rage.

Hornet had bigger problems than one simple bug with a nail, and though she’d rather see him wander right back the way he came, the mask upon the bug’s head was enough to dissuade her from making good on her initial promise to him.

Something else called him there.

Below, the clearing remained empty. Nothing else moved aside from a few infected aluba floating nearby.

She’d lingered there long enough.

Hornet stood, wincing as pain rippled up her side. Frustration had her hand gripping her needle just a bit tighter.

That vessel.

It wasn’t the first she’d encountered outside of the Abyss. The one in Greenpath was dead long before she saw it, but only recently so. She’d been finding more and more of the little corpses strewn throughout the kingdom.

Were they heeding the call that came from the Black Egg? While Hornet hadn’t been able to hear it, she felt its effects ripple through the entire kingdom. It didn’t matter; the Greenpath vessel was the only one to get that close to the Crossroads, and its journey ended long before the infection began seeping back into the ruins.

But this vessel. It used soul magic. It had survived this long, gotten this far from the Abyss.

Where had it been hiding?

Hornet looked away, considering her options. She still had a fair amount of kingdom to traverse. Despite setting out the moment she realized something had changed, she still didn’t know the full extent of what was happening.

And she _had_ to know. As much as it pained her, she couldn’t turn a blind eye to whatever new tragedy was befalling her home.

Hornet’s needle hissed through the air, silk trailing behind, and Hornet followed it, swinging down from her perch. Her body protested the sudden move, but her injuries weren’t severe enough to worry about just yet.

She’d underestimated that vessel.

No, that wasn’t entirely true. Hornet had been close to ending the fight when the simple bug intervened. He was as skilled as she’d suspected and was apparently protecting the vessel. While she had little doubt she could defeat either on their own, Hornet was wary of facing both at the same time.

What did this all mean? So much was changing, the eternal kingdom waking right before her eyes. There were new faces in Dirtmouth, new bugs crossing the Howling Cliffs while she left them unguarded. Vessels were suddenly crawling out of the Abyss.

And making allies?

Hornet paused, landing on a moss-covered outcrop that overlooked one of the more acid-riddled paths.

A vessel and a simple bug with a Dreamer’s mask were traveling through Greenpath. It almost sounded like the start of a bad joke, but Hornet found the idea concerning.

Called here or not, she didn’t trust the self-claimed explorer.

And the vessel? She wasn’t sure where to even begin with _that_.

Did the explorer have something to do with the vessel’s survival? Why was he protecting it in the first place? He’d only just arrived, and it didn’t come with him, so the two must’ve met recently. Did he not see what lay beneath that mask, what spilled from its shell when struck?

Or even more concerning, maybe he knew exactly what it was.

That mask…

Hornet sighed and stared down at the bubbling pools of acid. Infected squits buzzed about, placid as long as they didn’t see an uninfected being. The obbles too floated listlessly as they had nothing to shoot acid at.

Either way, a live (functional) vessel was in Hallownest and something was happening in the Temple of the Black Egg.

Hornet wasn’t one to jump to conclusions (there were so many variables, so much that could go wrong) but the situation was interesting.

She wondered: would it survive her test of resolve on its own? Or would it fall to her needle if the explorer weren’t around?

Perhaps time would give her another chance to find out.

Despite it being just another thorn in her side, she would have to keep an eye on the vessel’s progress.

That decided, Hornet leaped down from the ledge and headed for the Fungal Wastes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More rambling because I love talking and theorizing about this game:
> 
> I think Hornet is an incredibly interesting character and I'm hoping to learn more about her history in Silksong. In this story, she'll show up more often than she does in the game, though I'm not sure exactly how much since I'm bad at pacing that sort of thing.
> 
> The one thing that doesn't make sense to me in her first fight is that last bit. "I know what you'd try to do. I cannot allow it..."  
> Given the name of the achievement you get for beating her for the first time, I figured her fight was a test: she later leads Ghost to the information they need to confront the Hollow Knight, and given her role in the story, I figure she knows a fair amount about how all that works. However, what does she mean by "I know what you'd try to do. I cannot allow it"? Seeing as the Hollow Knight is failing (what else could cause the infection to return) isn't another vessel showing up a good thing? And even if she is trying to test them (if they lose, they're obviously too weak to replace thk anyway) I'm not sure what the purpose of that bit of dialogue is.
> 
> This also brings up my question as to exactly how much Hornet knows about the whole shebang. She certainly knows a lot, but everything? Like, she didn't recognize Monomon's mask on sight (to be fair, I didn't make the connection either) but recognized the protective seal placed upon it. She knows about the vessels and her relationship to them, and she knows about the Hollow Knight, which I think is significant since, as far as I can tell, the only reference to thk is their statue and everything we learn about them comes from indirect sources and putting pieces together. Does she know the Radiance is behind everything? 
> 
> Then again, did anyone other than the Pale King, the moths, and possibly Monomon know about the Radiance? I realize the lack of details on her is probably just to make her a surprise boss fight for the end, but with the secretive nature of the king and the lack of historical records on the Hollow Knight, it makes me wonder if maybe most bugs didn't know the actual cause of the infection, only that it was happening and it was bad. 
> 
> My headcanon regarding the vessels is that Ghost wasn't the only one to react when thk became infected, they were just the only one able to do anything about it because they escaped the Abyss a while ago and were outside of Hallownest when it happened. My other headcanon is that vessels don't grow outside of the Abyss and the stasis halts the physical aging of anyone who originated from the kingdom, explaining why Ghost hasn't grown despite being outside the kingdom for however long and why Quirrel is still alive despite it most likely being an incredibly long time since he first left.
> 
> That brings up my questions regarding exactly how long ago Hallownest fell, but I'll save that for another chapter


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhhhhh sorry for the unexpected hiatus. Finals, Covid, and a bunch of other stuff got really distracting and I kinda lost motivation to work on this for a while. I've actually been sitting on this chapter for a couple months and only just now remembered I could post it.
> 
> Also, I promise I really really love receiving comments on things, I'm just really bad at responding.

The knight had never been so relieved to see a bench in their life.

The acid-filled path had led to a massive _lake_ of acid, and beside the lake was a crumbling structure almost completely overtaken by moss and vines. Inside, dust lay thick along the ground and grass grew up between cracks in the stone floor.

All the knight cared about was the bench.

Hornet was incredibly fast, running and jumping almost as much as the knight did. Most of the damage they took was from running into her blade while trying to dodge her strikes.

The fight had left them sore, exhausted, and fragile. They felt like their shell was one strike away from splintering into a thousand pieces, and that the one hand they had pressed to their bleeding side was the only thing keeping them from breaking.

They passed out on the bench nearly as soon as they managed to drag their broken body up onto it.

When the knight woke, the fragile and hurt feeling was gone. The cuts in their shell had closed, and black no longer leaked from their injuries. The world looked a bit less fractured. They could breathe.

“You’ve been asleep for quite a while,” came Quirrel’s voice from somewhere nearby. “I was beginning to worry.”

The knight sat up and stretched, quite relieved at the lack of pain when they did so.

Quirrel sat nearby, steadily dragging a cloth across the blade of his nail. The metal gleamed even in the dim light that filtered in from the door.

The knight recalled the sound it made when clashing against Hornet’s needle.

Just like that, what took place in the clearing came back to them in a rush. Hornet’s cryptic message and the fight that followed; Quirrel showing up and saving them before the knight actually got skewered; the cloak they found that allowed them to dash through the air…

The three glowing figures that appeared above their head and spoke to them.

All of which, Quirrel had apparently been unable to see or hear.

At that thought, the knight realized he was still staring at them.

Well… what?

Oh, that’s right. He’d been worried.

He also started calling them ‘Ghost’. Hornet called them that too.

Maybe that was just their name? It might as well be.

Ghost waved their arms to demonstrate how they were no longer hurt.

“Good to see you’re feeling better,” Quirrel told them. His hands paused in their movement and he was quiet for a long moment. “The fight with that other bug,” he said slowly. “Do you know why she attacked you?”

_‘I know what you would do. I cannot allow it’_

Ghost shook their head.

“I see…”

Another pause.

“I understand it might be hard to describe, but I am very curious as to what you saw after the fight. Is there anything you might be able to tell me about it?”

In their mind’s eye, Ghost saw the three bugs again. They’d floated above the ground, halos of light casting their translucent bodies in an ethereal glow.

_‘ Would it seek to break the seals?’_

What seals? What was being sealed away? And where?

Their thoughts flickered to the Temple of the Black Egg. Quirrel had wondered whether it could be opened. Was it sealed shut? There were three strange marks covering the egg and three bugs had hovered over Ghost’s head. Was that what they’d meant?

Quirrel was still watching them expectantly and Ghost tried not to wince. It was hard to deny the honest curiosity in Quirrel’s voice, but truly, they had no idea where to even begin describing what they saw, even if they did have the words.

They shook their head again.

“That’s alright. This kingdom has enough mystery to be seen as it is. I suppose chasing after the _unseen_ as well would be greedy of me.” If he was disappointed, he did a very good job at hiding it. Quirrel looked around the small room the two sat in and then gestured vaguely. “We’re lucky to find this place so close by. This building suggests some form of worship, though its idol has clearly been long forgotten. Doubles equally well for a moment's respite.”

Ghost nodded in agreement.

Silence fell for a long moment as Quirrel went back to tending to his weapon and Ghost reorganized their cloak. The stillness felt strange, separate from the companionable quiet they were used to when the words ran short.

Maybe it was because this time, that wasn’t the case. There was a lot Ghost wanted to say, and they had a feeling Quirrel had more questions than he let on. 

In an effort to distract themself, they looked down at their old cloak. Orange still stained the fabric and the edges were torn in several places. Now that they had the new one, they didn’t really see any point in keeping the old one around. Then again, maybe they’d need it later? They decided to just tuck it away instead.

With nothing else to do, the silence was suddenly suffocating.

Ghost hopped off the bench and headed for the door. They remembered the lake but hadn’t had the chance to poke around the area.

Was Hornet still nearby?

Then again, did they really want to see her again if she was?

“I saw a strange fellow out there,” Quirrel said. “He seemed quite taken by the lake. I'd planned to offer greetings, though figured I'd first tend to my nail on chance our meeting goes poorly.”

Considering the last bug they met had tried to kill them both, Ghost didn’t blame him.

Still, their restless legs carried them back into the light. The air there tingled, the mist from the acid lake rising up into the atmosphere. A dock stretched from the shore, the acid lapping at the support poles but not dissolving them.

As Quirrel had said, a lone bug stood at the end of the dock. It stared out at the acid as if in a trance. The bug’s shell was green and it held both a nail and a shell.

It didn’t stir even as Ghost stepped closer.

When they were close enough, Ghost reached out to tap its arm (they couldn’t really reach any higher).

The bug didn’t even jump. When it turned and struck with its nail, it was in one fluid movement.

Ghost leaped back and drew their own weapon. It had seemed normal enough from a distance, but this bug wanted them dead too?

They supposed they should be used to it by now.

The green bug pressed forward, and Ghost was happy to retreat a few steps. In the fight against Hornet, they’d learned that jumping over an enemy and striking downward was quite effective (as long as said enemy didn’t jump…), and they didn’t want to overshoot and wind up in the lake.

In the pause between strikes, Ghost saw an opening and wasted no time in taking advantage. They ducked around their opponent’s weapon and swung their own nail, but before the hit could land, the green bug raised their shell. Ghost’s nail bounced off without even leaving a scratch.

Ghost jumped over the bug’s head as it swung its nail again. They managed to strike once while their opponent’s weapon sliced harmlessly through the air, but their second attack was once again met by the shield.

When they landed, there was wood beneath their feet and the lake was at their back.

Ah. They hadn’t landed in the acid, but this wasn’t much better.

The green bug turned, nail slashing outward.

Once again, Ghost leaped over its head, striking downward as they did so. The force kept them airborne for an extra moment, just long enough to get in a second hit before that shield came back up.

It felt better to have solid ground beneath their feet.

Ghost backtracked a few steps, putting distance between themself and the other bug. If it insisted on fighting, they’d prefer to do it away from the acid.

They wondered if Quirrel could hear all this. Or were those stone walls more soundproof than they looked?

The green bug took a breath and then spat something round and green into the air. It spun in an arc, and Ghost dashed aside before it could hit them.

It was… a ball of thorns? Did that bug just spit _thorns_?

Apparently so. It did so again, and Ghost dashed forward while their opponent was distracted.

Two quick strikes, their nail carving slices of orange through the green. Ghost tried for a third, but the green bug’s shield came back up, sending them stumbling back a few steps. Before they could regain their footing, their opponent’s nail swung outward again, this time the blade catching across their stomach.

Ghost flinched back hard enough to put some distance between them and their opponent. They wrapped one arm around their middle, wincing as blobs of black rose up from the wound.

More balls of thorns rained down, and they scrambled further back out of range.

It occurred to Ghost that they had enough soul to spend on a spell.

As before, the white magic burst from their body, the twisting blur of white looking far too big to come from a being their size. Like before, it tore through the air and burned through the bug before them.

The green bug fell and did not get back up.

And that was that!

Ghost let out a sigh and looked down at themself. The gash across their stomach was not deep and while the damage left them feeling splintered and fragile, the pain was dull compared to the initial injury. They focused what was left of the soul they’d gathered and watched as the black of their shell mended itself, and the black from within stopped spilling into the air.

When they turned to go back, they realized Quirrel was standing by the door of the moss-covered structure. He was watching them.

Why? He’d seen them fight before.

Ghost waved at him. He’d been right! Their meeting with the green bug had gone poorly! Rather terribly, in fact!

“A shame the infection has spread this far,” Quirrel said. He acknowledged the green bug’s corpse with a sad shake of his head.

Ghost agreed. They looked down at the fallen bug. With its shell and nail, it looked like a knight. A knight of Greenpath? Perhaps the green knight hadn’t always been that way.

They felt their shell grow heavy at the idea of a bug like that deteriorating into… well.

Quirrel sidestepped the fallen bug and made for the dock.

Curious at what he might say about it, Ghost joined him.

Without a slashing blade to distract them, they realized the air grew even more humid the closer they got to the acid. Stinging mist hung low over the bright blue-green surface, and they felt the urge to press their cloak over their mask.

The two stood at the end of the dock, worn wooden planks beneath their feet and the acid pooling below. The surface was so still that it reflected the bright green of the cavern like a mirror.

“Despite its danger, the Lake of Unn is quite beautiful,” Quirrel said. He didn’t seem to be bothered by the acid in the air. Actually, he looked quite at peace.

Ghost gave a stiff nod and took a few steps back from the edge of the dock.

“I wonder if this is what the moss knight had been guarding when it succumbed to infection,” Quirrel continued, still looking out across the acid. He almost looked as transfixed as the green knight had been. “Even in such a state, it has not forgotten its training or purpose.”

Ghost glanced back to where the knight, moss knight, lay. They looked so weak and broken, shell scorched black and limbs awkwardly framing their body. Their nail and shell had been knocked from their hands in the blast, both items lying nearby.

“I know I’ve mentioned this before,” Quirrel said, reclaiming Ghost’s attention. “But you would be wise to find a sharper weapon. I doubt the knight you fought is the last of its kind, and moss knights are far from the most skilled of enemies that wander these caverns.”

That again?

Ghost drew their nail and pointed it at Quirrel.

“You’ve more than proven your skill,” the taller bug chuckled, not looking intimidated in the slightest (not that Ghost was actually threatening him). “Forgive my insistence, but I’d hate to think you’ve lost your life to something as preventable as a blunt blade.”

He wasn’t wrong. The edge of their nail was indeed weathered, small nicks and other imperfections scattered down the side. There was also a crack that ran from the grip all the way down to the point.

Still, Ghost found the idea of parting with it painful. How long had they had that nail? They didn’t remember when they’d picked it up, (nobody gave it to them) but they had a feeling it was a while before they entered Hallownest. In the brief time between their arrival and current conversation with Quirrel, the blade had seen more than its fair share of combat (not to mention being useful in exploring things Ghost didn’t want to touch themself or couldn’t reach).

They returned their nail to its place on their back. Quirrel wasn’t wrong, but they didn’t feel like acknowledging it at the moment.

The acidic air was beginning to make their mask itch, so they turned and headed for solid ground. Despite the less than pleasant air, the area was nice. Peaceful.

The moss knight’s corpse still lay there, broken in the grass. Despite whatever terrible thing had taken hold of their mind, they still remembered their purpose and died at their post. Was whatever they were protecting even still there? Or had the poor knight fallen while protecting a treasure that no longer existed?

What was left to guard in this broken shell of a kingdom? Sure, Hallownest still held some beauty, but was there anything left worth protecting? Dying for?

Was Hornet protecting the same thing? Maybe she knew the answer.

Ghost was fairly sure she knew the answer to a lot of their questions, not that they had much hope of her answering. Whatever she thought they were intending to do, she’d been more interested in stopping them than letting them in on the secret.

_‘Would it seek to break the seals?’_

But what seals???

Ghost’s attention returned to the world around them when they nearly walked into a pool of acid. Their mindless wandering had led them back the way they had come, and they were standing just before the edge of the darker cavern. Beyond, there was the raised path that led back to where they’d fought Hornet, and then a lower path that seemed to continue deeper into the shadows.

“I see you’re anxious to get moving again,” Quirrel commented, making Ghost jump. When did he come to stand so close??

Ignoring the way they nearly jumped out of their shell, Ghost gave a nod and pointed to the path ahead.

“Greenpath is much larger than I expected,” Quirrel continued. “I’m sure there are more mysteries to be discovered here!”

If that was the case, Ghost hoped they could find Cornifer there too. They‘d already forgotten the route they took to get from that first path from the Crossroads to the Lake.

The two continued on, crossing the little pools of acid and then heading further into the shadowed path. The way sloped upward from there, a series of ledges leading up, apparently back to the area before the arena they’d fought Hornet in.

Quirrel took the lead as the two wandered back out into the light and then through yet another moss-covered trail. Ghost was happy to let him, seeing as what happened the last time they went charging on ahead. Really, they were lucky he found them in time. Hornet had roughed them up pretty badly by the time Quirrel showed up, and Ghost had no doubt she would’ve finished the job if he’d appeared any later.

That was the second time Quirrel had saved them. If it became too much of a habit, Ghost would have to find a way to repay him. He didn’t seem interested in money. Maybe they could give him a flower? There were a lot scattered throughout Greenpath.

There were more moss knights stationed in a small valley up ahead. They jumped out of the leaves and resumed their patrol when Quirrel and Ghost got too close. Thankfully, the two wanderers were able to find a way around the possessed guardians of Greenpath. With the intruders out of reach, the knights did little more than rattle their nails and spit bundles of thorns.

The further the two walked, the more the ground continued to tilt upwards. If they continued much further, Quirrel and Ghost would reach the surface, perhaps close to where Ghost first wound up on their way to Dirtmouth. The King’s Pass. What lay beyond it? Ghost felt like they should know, but for some reason, nothing came to mind.

Whatever sat on the other side of the King’s Pass, it probably just looked like the forlorn rocks that preceded Dirtmouth, or the crumbling ruins of the Crossroads.

Actually, wherever the two travelers were, it looked a lot like the Crossroads already.

What happened to all the green? The moss and leaves abruptly gave way to a dark and rocky cavern. Whatever light illuminated the rest of Greenpath was absent here, and the warm humidity faded into a colder damp.

“It seems not all of Greenpath lives up to the name,” Quirrel observed.

Apparently. As such, Ghost wanted to turn and go back. Not that the cold or dark or damp really bothered them, but they much preferred the green. The flora was so much nicer, even if it concealed biting bushes and fanged flowers.

Ghost was about to complain (smacking their nail against a rock enough times would probably get the point across) when they realized they could hear yelling from up ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I recently got Hollow Knight on the Switch and have been replaying it. This second playthrough has reminded me how much I love this game and its characters, but also made me realize just how much I got wrong regarding the layout of things, as well as other details. Oops.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> something happened with the formatting of this one, and idk what. Hope ya enjoy anyways!
> 
> edit: also, one of my end notes keeps repeating itself? idk why or how to fix. Long-time user of AO3, but still kinda new to posting stuff

Quirrel paused when he first heard the sound of a bug in distress. The shouting was faint, but it echoed through the cavern, bouncing off the stark walls until it was all that could be heard. Even the buzz of nearby vengeflies was muted.

Ghost darted ahead and pointed in the direction of the sound. They then looked back to Quirrel, head tilted in a questioning manner.

“I hear it too,” Quirrel told them. “This sleeping kingdom truly is waking right before our eyes! I wonder what poor soul has underestimated its dangers?”

Ghost turned back and started running toward the source of the noise.

The sound only grew louder as the two picked up the pace and headed deeper into the darkness. Soon, angry snarls could be heard over the shouting. Angry snarls and the buzz of more flying pests.

“There are a lot of vengeflies here,” Quirrel observed. His nail swung in a gleaming arc, severing a fly in half as he ran forward.

Ghost didn’t bother slowing down, swinging their own nail and not bothering to watch as vegeflies fell to it.

When the two finally reached the source of all the commotion, Ghost looked even more displeased.

A massive vengefly king clung to the ceiling, drool dripping from its mandibles as it snarled. It clutched a smaller bug in its maw. The smaller bug was shouting and cursing and striking with what looked like a stick, but despite his precarious position, seemed unharmed.

Actually, he looked a lot like Ghost.

Speaking of Ghost, they wasted no time in bounding up a nearby rockslide, using it to reach another ledge right beneath the struggle on the ceiling. Their nail was out in an instant (actually, they might not have put it away at all since they first heard the shouting), the dull and rusted metal reflecting what little light reached that far.

Quirrel was quick to catch up. His little friend was capable, but he’d prefer not to experience a repeat of what happened the last time he hesitated. He drew his nail as soon as the vengefly king was within striking distance, but Ghost got there first.

Their dull blade struck the vengefly king’s mandibles, effectively knocking the smaller bug from its grip. The bug hit the ground like a bag of rocks and did not get up.

The vengefly king gave a furious screech, the sound giving both bugs pause as it ricocheted through the cavern and bounced off the stone walls. Then it swooped down, mandibles flexing as it headed toward Ghost.

Ghost leaped over its head, striking downwards as they did so. Their nail struck the vengefly king right between its wings, and the bug roared.

The roar drew more vengeflies to the area. Beneath the louder hum of the vengefly king’s wings, the buzzing of smaller bugs drew closer.

These vengeflies were no harder to strike down than the others had been, but there were a lot more of them. Luckily, all honed in on Ghost, so Quirrel had no trouble closing in and dealing with the smaller bugs before they could aid their king.

During this, he couldn’t help but note that the bug he and Ghost were trying to save still hadn’t gotten up. He seemed fine earlier. Were they too late? It wouldn’t be the first time Quirrel had rushed in to save what turned out to be a corpse, but he could think about that later.

Another deafening screech sliced through the cacophony, and Quirrel paused in skewering a vengefly just in time to see Ghost drive their nail through a crack in the vengefly king’s armor. A cloud of orange exploded from the wound, filling the cavern with the disgustingly sweet smell of infection.

Any remaining common vengeflies fled as the vengefly king’s body landed on a nearby ledge.

Ghost landed a few steps away, covered in so much orange that Quirrel would have mistaken it for their natural color if he hadn’t known otherwise. They looked quite smug as they rejoined Quirrel on the larger outcropping.

Was it because of his comment about their nail?

Probably.

Oh well, he was still right.

Seeing as they were in one piece and seemingly in good health, Quirrel turned back to the bug that the vengefly king had been trying to eat. He still hadn’t gotten up.

“Er, excuse me,” Quirrel tried, looking down at the still form. “Are you –”

Before he could finish, the bug leaped up, nail swinging haphazardly from side to side. “Just what do you think you're doing?!” The bug demanded, voice somehow even louder than it had been when he was being attacked.

Taken aback, Quirrel couldn’t think of a response and instead took a step back. The bug’s wooden nail made a poor weapon, but he still wasn’t comfortable with the point being that close to his face.

“You dare to come between me and my prey?” The smaller bug continued. He did resemble Ghost. His horns were of different lengths and the eyeholes in his mask (eyes?) were narrower. The most obvious difference was that he had a visible mouth. “Is it a habit of yours to scurry about, getting in the way and causing bother?”

“We heard you shouting from the next cavern over and thought you might need help,” Quirrel tried to explain. “To be truthful, it very much looked like you did –”

“Well you thought wrong!” The small bug shouted, still waving his wooden nail. “I had that beast exactly where I wanted it. I was about to deal the killing blow when you two showed up and ruined everything!”

Ghost materialized at Quirrel’s side. They looked from the other bug to Quirrel and then back again.

Quirrel just shrugged.

“Know this, cur. I am Zote the Mighty, a knight of great renown!”

Ah. He was still talking.

“I shall grant you mercy this once,” Zote said, pointing his nail at Quirrel and then Ghost. “Now begone! Cross me again, and you'll find out why they call my weapon 'Life Ender'.”

Ghost just pointed at Zote and stared up at Quirrel. Were they frustrated at Zote’s ungratefulness? Confused as to his physical resemblance to themself? Astounded at his utter lack of awareness?

Possibly all three.

“Of course, of course,” Quirrel said before Ghost could express any of the above with their nail. “We must be on our way as it is, and I certainly would hate to face the full force of your wrath.”

“Indeed!” Zote huffed either oblivious to or ignoring the note of laughter in Quirrel’s voice. “For you have witnessed but a mere fraction of my true skill and power!”

He said a great deal more, but Quirrel was already attempting to herd Ghost toward the nearest exit. Another hall opened up nearby, and that seemed as good an escape as any.

Now that Zote’s voice was being overtaken by the sound of shuffling husks and skittering tiktiks, Quirrel let himself laugh at the ridiculous ordeal. He had no idea how such a bug managed to exist in a place like Hallownest, but it was a mystery that Quirrel was content to let be.

Ghost stopped walking and Quirrel nearly tripped over them.

“Yes?”

The little bug waved their hands a bit and pointed accusingly at nothing in particular. They gave no clear indication of the cause of their distress, but continued on for a few more moments. It looked like a very frustrated silent rant, and though Quirrel couldn’t understand the finer details, he felt he understood the general emotion of it.

“He was quite rude,” Quirrel remarked, nodding in agreement and hoping he was right about what he was agreeing with.

Ghost paused in their fit and looked back up at Quirrel. Then they pointed very deliberately back the way the two had come (toward Zote) and then at their own mask.

“Yes, I too saw some similarities between your masks,” Quirrel said slowly. If that was the root of Ghost’s tantrum, it apparently was very important to them.

The smaller bug waved their arms a few more times. When Quirrel didn’t say anything else (He was trying alright? Ghost wasn’t exactly giving him much to work with.) their hands fell and their shoulders slumped. They dejectedly patted their mask again.

“Apologies, friend,” Quirrel told them. He really was a bit disappointed. Whatever Ghost had to say, he was certain it was more interesting than anything that came out of Zote’s mouth.

Then an idea struck.

“You acquired a quill and parchment from Dirtmouth, correct? Perhaps you could write what you wish to say?”

Ghost reached within their cloak and held up their piece of parchment. It was completely full, a map of the Crossroads carefully recorded in dark ink. There was no room to write anything else.

“We could return to Dirtmouth,” Quirrel suggested. He decisively ignored how obvious the solution to Ghost’s muteness was, and instead focused on the possibility of better communicating with his little friend. As entertaining as their thoughts on Zote might be, his thoughts returned to what they’d seen back before the Lake of Unn.

Ghost nodded. They waved their map and pointed back again.

“Are you wanting to map Greenpath as well, or are you concerned that you don’t _currently_ have a map of Greenpath?”

Ghost nodded again.

That… didn’t help.

Quirrel glanced around. The two were standing in what looked to be an old storage building. Barrels and crates and a few abandoned carts were strewn about, covered in dust and worn smooth with age. The hall they came in by was short and led back toward the greener parts of Greenpath (and Zote). Ahead, the way only grew darker and more rocky.

“If I’m not mistaken, I’d say we’re relatively close to the surface,” Quirrel thought out loud. He looked back to his small companion. “I would very much like to see if there’s another way in and out of the kingdom.” Did he climb that cliff for nothing? “Anyhow, I feel we might spend more time trying to retrace our steps back to the Crossroads than forging ahead and finding a new way to return.”

Ghost held up their hands. They’d made an attempt at wiping the orange from their mask and cloak, but were still covered in it.

“Perhaps we can also find a pool that’s not filled with acid.” For some reason, Quirrel doubted the infection could spread simply through physical contact with it, but he’d rather not test that theory. At this point, Ghost was more orange than not, and he really hated the thought of the color reaching their eyes.

Ghost nodded decisively and then led the way forward.

The ground grew even rockier than that of the crossroads, stalactites and stalagmites coming together like fangs in a giant maw. There was no real path or trail to speak of, just a few conveniently placed rocks and ledges that the two travelers could use to get across. A few crawlids scrambled about, oblivious to the spikes that lined the ground beneath their perches, but aside from that, all seemed still.

Were they still in Greenpath? Quirrel doubted it. The caverns looked drastically different from those the two traversed earlier, and there was little evidence of the old kingdom.

“We should watch out step,” he said, peering down into the shadows below. It was so dark and his ledge was so high that he could no longer make out the spikes that covered the floor below. Sharp and pointed upwards, they almost resembled nails raised in salute. “Metal cuts better than stone, but I have no doubt those spikes would spell the end for any bug unfortunate enough to fall upon them.”

Ahead, Ghost turned and stared at him for a moment. Quirrel wasn’t sure what they were expecting from him, but they went back to climbing before he could ask.

Despite the danger the terrain presented, the next stretch of travel was relatively mundane. Wherever the two were, there were no ruins or structures to distract from the precarious path, and the infected were few and far between, the exception being a pair of elder baldur that lay sleeping in a cavern below. Ghost nearly fell in, but then managed to dash across the gap.

The further the two went, the more the cavern sloped slowly upwards. The damp cave air took on a drier quality, and a faint breeze blew in from somewhere up above. The smell of water and cold faded into the taste of dust and ash.

“I daresay we’re close to Hallownest’s western border,” Quirrel said. The wind was whistling so loud, he had to raise his voice to make sure he was heard.

Ghost looked back at him expectantly.

“I don’t have much to say on the subject. There is a great cliff that stands between Dirtmouth and the world beyond. It’s quite a climb, but nothing too perilous. In fact, that’s the way by which I arrived at Hallownest.”

Ghost jumped up and down and then pointed forward, to where the wind was beginning to blow in bits of dust and sand. The rock around them was worn smooth from the endless grating.

“I will admit, I don’t recall much of what lies beyond Hallownest’s borders,” Quirrel admitted. To be honest, after heading down the well, he’d been so focused on the mysteries of Hallownest that he hardly even thought of where he’d been before. “There’s a great empty desert that has winds so strong, the flying sand could scratch through one’s shell. All is dark and dead for a very long while.” And beyond that? Quirrel wasn’t entirely sure, but he felt like there was _something_ worth discovering. Perhaps it would come back to him in time.

Ghost paused and looked back at him.

“At the moment, my mind is too focused on Hallownest to say much regarding anywhere else, I’m afraid. Just as well, however. The barren wastelands are not called such for nothing.”

Apparently satisfied with the explanation, Ghost looked back to where the narrow passageway opened up into the above world. They leaned into the wind (they were so light, Quirrel worried they might be fully swept off their feet if they weren’t careful) and slowly made their way outside.


End file.
